Tremors
by Avatar720
Summary: One-Shot - Skye finds herself alone with only the stars to look at, until Fitz helps her realise that she couldn't be more accepted. - Set between S2E11 and S2E12.


Looking up the stars used to calm her, all those years ago. She supposed that her astral vigil might have influenced her when she finally abandoned her old identity in her search for the truth. Knowing what she did now: that Humanity was not alone in the Universe; that the Universe wasn't particularly friendly; that she herself wasn't truly of this world—of Earth—Skye wondered if perhaps she was fated to carry her name.

Though the night leeched the warmth from her exposed arms, and the railing they rested on bit into them like chill, metal teeth, she refused to roll her sleeves back down. The discomfort helped distract her, in a way—gave her something else to focus on; something mundane and within her capacity to fix if she wanted. She savoured the feeling of control, wishing she could bottle it. Control was something she had in short supply, nowadays.

A light breeze blew stray strands of hair across her vision, and though they obscured her view of the twinkling dots of light above her, she refrained from sweeping them back. They were another distraction; welcome, like a reliable old friend. Friends. Even the stars had each other. Though light-years apart, from where Skye stood, they could almost be touching; laughing together and dancing and holding hands. People used to wonder if Humanity was alone in the universe. Despite the answer, Skye couldn't help but feel that she felt more alone for knowing it.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Skye didn't jump. May had trained her out of being startled. Instead, she turned around, leaning her back against the railing.

"How long have you been up here, Fitz?"

"Not long, just enough to… to…" Skye watched him fidget, watched his mouth work soundlessly. It pained her a little to watch, even now. "Rehearse!" Fitz finally declared, wincing a little at the sound of his own voice, "Enough to rehearse what to say. Didn't do much good, did it?"

Skye smiled at him. "You got it in the end, that's what matters."

"Yeah, just don't trust me to warn you if you're about to get hit by a car." Fitz said, returning the gesture.

"I'll bear that in mind." Her smiled faltered. "Why'd you come up here?"

"After the other day and everything, I… I just want to make sure you're alright."

"Thanks Fitz, but I'm fine, really." Skye turned back to her stargazing. "I mean, I cause earthquakes when I get upset, but apart from that I've never been better." She hadn't noticed her hands forming fists at the memories until her nails started jabbing her palm. Focussing on a particularly bright star, she tried to zone back out, but couldn't.

"Which one are you looking at?" Fitz asked, joining her at the railing.

"That one." She pointed, frowning at the hair dangling in front of her face and tucking it behind her ear.. "The big, really bright one."

"Next to the other really bright ones? Very precise." Fitz joked.

Skye rolled her eyes. "Just look up my arm."

"That's Jupiter, I think."

"You can tell from here?"

"More or less; you see over there, to the left of it?" It was Skye's turn to follow where Fitz pointed, now.

"Yeah, I'd say those ones were stars, too."

"Funny. You see that big one, with a hook shape of smaller ones above it?"

"Yeah…" At least, Skye thought she did, though they didn't seem very impressive.

"A little lower right of that is a smaller one, with a bigger one below that, with two more across from that one, and-."

"Hold on, you've lost me."

Fitz pulled a piece of paper and a pen from various pockets, drew a quick diagram-linking dots of varying sizes with lines like a puzzle-and held it up to the sky. Skye compared it to the area they'd looked at, and sure enough, saw the pattern. It looked mainly like a badly-drawn coat-hangar. "That's Leo, the constellation." Skye examined the stars again as Fitz went back to drawing, holding the new diagram up a little farther across to the right. It looked like an over-tall U on its side. "That's… erm… that's Gemini." A third diagram was quickly held up for comparison, between where the first two were, and resembled an upside-down Y. "That one's… Cancer."

Skye couldn't stop staring. A block of space, tiny in comparison to the rest but large enough for her, had suddenly been opened up. "When did you become an astronomer?"

"I've spent my fair share of time outside just… looking. I had a telescope as a kid, and set it up when I could. You can't beat a clear Scottish sky at night."

"Isn't Scotland supposed to be about 99% rain?" Skye laughed.

"That's about right."

They fell silent for a while, eying the heavens. In spite of herself, Skye shivered, rolling her sleeves down over her arms. She found Fitz's arm and looped hers around it, suddenly regretting not bringing a jacket as she rested her head on his shoulder. Fitz didn't seem to mind, or at least, he didn't say so if he did. He just looked at her, smiled, and turned his attention back to the sky.

As the night progressed, they took turns picking out patterns in the squares of their thumbs and fingers, like artists visualising masterpieces. Fitz would point out other constellations, and Skye would trace her own in the stars. Fitz encouraged her up until she started drawing rude words, at which point he just joined in. The night sky was her canvas, where she'd previously thought it just a gallery. With a few deft sweeps of her finger, she painted pictures that spanned galaxies.

"…And that star there, is Sirius."

Skye couldn't resist. "What makes that one so serious?"

Fitz sighed. "It's part of Canis Major, and the brightest star in Earth's night sky."

"That does sound serious. Good name."

"I'm sure it's glad to know you approve."

Skye had stopped counting how many times they'd laughed during the night. Instead, as silence fell once more, and the stars soundlessly twinkled overhead, she found that she'd stopped worrying at all. She'd spent hours unlocking space with Fitz; he'd introduced her to galaxies; she'd laughed with him and joked with him; she'd used the very universe to aptly write her name above her. The stars didn't calm her any more—they emboldened her. She knew them, now—looked upon them as friends. Friends. The stars had each other, and now she had them. Knowing that humanity wasn't alone in the universe didn't bother her so much, knowing also that the universe itself didn't seem to mind the company.

If a universe, and Fitz, could accept her, then why wouldn't anyone else? Coulson, and May, surely. And maybe Simmons, and Lance, and Mack and Bobbi.

For one night, at least, Skye felt wanted, and in control. For one night, beneath the stars, the tremors ceased.


End file.
